Sunday, August 16, 2009

Just wrote a review of G. O. Clark's new chapbook, Strange Vegetables. No, I am not printing it here. It will eventually appear in Star*line. While I was copying the file I got to thinking about old chapbooks I've read. What follows is not the first review I wrote, but it is the oldest one still on my computer. This five-year-old chapbook is probably out of print, but there is something to be said for trying to find a copy (a quick search did not turn one up). I have not heard from the author in years, but I found a speculative poem of his published just two years ago on subtletea.com.

When I first picked up this chapbook by Alec Kowalczyk I was struck by the unusual cover. Genre poetry collections usually have no cover art or drawings on the cover, but this one has a photograph. A very nice photograph, but one that looks like it belongs on the cover of a mainstream poetry collection. I had published a couple of Alec's poems and assumed this was a genre collection, but it really isn't. This is a mainstream collection. The book includes mostly very short poems: some are haiku and some belong to other forms. It doesn't take long to read one of these poems and you are on to the next one, unless you stop to think about it. This might be a good idea, because these poems have layers. And that is another advantage of a collection of very short poems. If each poem is good enough to make you ponder, then with more poems you get more bang for your buck.

I said this wasn't a genre chapbook. However, it does contain science-fiction poems, science poems, and fantasy poems, at least if you want to be a bit generous with your definitions, and that is always a good idea.

If I was a real reviewer I would now make some cute tie-in between the title, the title poem, and life, the universe, and everything. You're probably hoping for this, but it's not my thing. I would like to give you a taste of what this book contains. Here is one of the worlds from a poem called "three worlds":

while immediately belowthe sun sparkles off a circling carp

And here is one that I think could be considered a genre poem:

"Roadside Gothic"

abandoned dinerrooted and overgrown-- the click of a cup?

Whatever. Even if you don't agree with me about classification, which is admittedly subjective, I still think you should get this book, and read it, more than once. And, oh yes, I did recognize a couple of these poems. I was happy to see them again.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Come with me to the core.Look! These bones have been here for centuries.The Norwegians were the firstto make it all the way,you might have read about it.We'll need to traverse the outer coreby submersible – it's liquid.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

I wonder about them, those brave explorers,Cocooned in their antiseptic habitats,Sexually and temperamentally paired to a nicety,With all the amenities the late 21st C has to offer.When they return, eyes blazing with alien worlds(The cities, the domed necropoli, wheeled plants andMile-long insects, weird new minerals andPrecisely measured constants),When they return from their far adventuring,What will they think, poking through the pestilential ashOf our last and truly final war,In which even the bones of the slain were devouredIn jig time by the worst the late 21st had to deploy?And I write them notes, preserved in a wide variety of media,And hide them in obscure places on several continents.I try to tell them: don't grieve, don't feel guilt,Turn away from this stupid dead thing and go back to the stars,So that our suicide will not quite have been in vain.